Work Text:
His trip to Osaka hasn’t sat well with him. Upon returning home, Ichiro has just as many answers as he does questions, and he’s more distracted than before; though he supposes the trip was worth it, considering he didn’t leave empty handed. Ichiro’s still mulling over his conversation with Sasara and the note that was left for him.
In the days that follow, memories from the past resurface, much to Ichiro’s frustration.
He remembers lazy days in Ikebukuro, when everything felt a little more easier, simpler. Ichiro reminisces on friendships that he thought would last, betrayals that still sting more than he would like to admit.
What weighs on him the most is the reunion between himself, Samatoki, and Jakurai after the division battle. Ichiro can’t forget the accusation Samatoki spat at him, laden with venom and unforgiving wrath.
It’s why he looked into Nemu’s disappearance. It’s why Ichiro can’t stop staring at the contact information he was never able to bring himself to delete.
His thumb hovers over the call button, like it has been these past few days. Usually, Ichiro will stare, considers calling, but he backs out every time like the coward Samatoki claims him to be.
This time, however, Ichiro presses the button.
It’s late, he probably won’t pick up.
The phone rings three times, and Ichiro figures this is a lost cause until there’s a click over the line and the ringing stops. His heart pounds loud in his ears, and surprise doesn’t begin to cover how he’s feeling.
“You picked up,” Ichiro says, throat dry.
Immediately, Samatoki clicks his tongue, “Doesn’t mean I’m not pissed about it.”
“You still have my number.”
Silence.
Ichiro almost thinks Samatoki’s hung up.
“What d’ya’ want?” Exhausted is what Samatoki sounds like, and even though they’re on bad terms, Ichiro fights the itch to ask him if something happened.
He gets straight to the point, knowing Samatoki doesn’t have the patience for him to stall, “Can we meet?” When he doesn’t get a response, Ichiro anxiously continues, “Not now, but soon?”
The pause that follows is only seconds long yet it feels like minutes pass, “Whatever, fine.”
Ichiro sits up in bed, “Really?”
“Ask me again and I’ll change my mind,” Samatoki growls back, naturally.
They agree on a time and place before Samatoki hangs up first. Ichiro stares down at his cell. The length of their call is roughly five minutes - five minutes where they didn’t fight or mock each other, and it gives him hope that their meeting won’t end up in some impromptu rap battle.
Maybe, they’ll be able to talk like adults.
Ichiro laughs at the thought. They’re capable of turning each other into immature children.
He’s meeting Samatoki tomorrow, and when Ichiro lays back down, he finds it difficult to fall asleep.
The evening air is cool by the time Ichiro steps off the train and onto the streets of Yokohama. He feels out of place, just like he did in Chuuoku and Osaka, so he tries not to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. It always keeps Ichiro on edge when he sets foot into territory that isn’t his own. He’s even more apprehensive than usual, body thrumming with nervous energy and mind racing with potential outcomes of this meeting.
Ichiro knows it doesn’t do him any good to preemptively brood, yet he can’t stop himself.
The walk to their meeting is short, and even though Ichiro’s had a full train ride to prepare himself, he’s not ready when he finally sees Samatoki.
With the sun just below the horizon, Samatoki bathes in pink and orange hues as he stares out into the bay. An evening breeze blows through the park, ruffling the white strands of Samatoki’s hair and carrying the smoke from his cigarette.
It’s serene observing Samatoki like this when he doesn’t know Ichiro’s watching.
He allows himself another minute to stare at Samatoki’s backside before letting out a measured breath and continuing forward, making his presence known.
“I was startin’ to think you wouldn’t show.”
It implies that Samatoki still reckons him a coward, “I wouldn’t back out after asking you to meet.” Ichiro knows it’ll do them no good if he gets angry, yet his fuse with Samatoki is short since they split.
Samatoki barks out a laugh, “You could’ve been fucking with me for all I know.”
“I wasn’t - I’m not!” Ichiro approaches Samatoki, joining him at the railing that separates them from the bay, “I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be here.”
When Samatoki turns to look at him, he realizes they’re now the same height, and Ichiro suddenly feels like his equal and not some high school brat that followed Samatoki right on his heels.
“I’m here,” Samatoki says around his cigarette, and he sounds just as exhausted as he did on the phone last night, “so what’s so damn important that we gotta meet in person?”
Smoke curls into the evening air, and Ichiro still tries to convince himself that he hates the smell of Samatoki’s cigarettes. He’s tried to convince himself of a lot of things that revolve around Samatoki.
Ichiro doesn’t break from Samatoki’s expectant glare, “It’s about Nemu. I - ”
“We’re not talking about her,” Samatoki quickly dismisses, eyes narrowed.
“Samatoki, seriously, I found out - !”
“I know already, alright!” Samatoki raises his voice, frowning as he throws his cigarette to the ground and stubs it out with his boot. When he speaks again, he’s considerably calmer, “She’s with the damned government…”
Ichiro watches as Samatoki faces the bay again, hurt clouding his eyes.
He continues carefully, not wanting to detonate the figurative bomb that Samatoki is, “She’s the Vice Chief of the Administrative Inspection Bureau.”
“Yeah, I know,” Samatoki sighs, that exhaustion creeping back up into his voice. “Found out the other day.”
Curious, Ichiro presses a little further, “What happened?”
Samatoki clicks his tongue, and Ichiro can tell he’s not interested in giving out the details, especially to him, “She barged into my office trying to take me into custody.” He sees Samatoki’s fingers twitch on the railing, itching for another cigarette like reliving the other day can only happen if there’s more nicotine in his system. “The whole thing got called off and...something wasn’t right with her…”
That explains why Samatoki looks and sounds exhausted, and Ichiro thinks it’s all that exhaustion that made Samatoki a little more willing to meet up with him.
“I didn’t know she joined the party, Samatoki,” Because this is one piece of why Samatoki’s mad at him, and why Ichiro did some digging in the first place and wanted to meet.
Finally, Samatoki looks at him, posturing like a cat that’s protecting their territory, “She said she joined because of you , Ichiro!” The way Samatoki says his name so laced with anger makes Ichiro think that maybe they’ll never get back to how things were. He briefly wonders if Samatoki even wants to return to how they once were.
“I never told her to join them!” Ichiro can’t help but mirror that anger.
“I know!”
Ichiro flinches at how the admission comes out so bitter and tired. If Samatoki knows that Ichiro wasn’t behind Nemu’s reasoning for joining The Party of Words, then why have they let this feud go on for so long - why didn’t they just talk ?
“Damn it…I know...” Samatoki sighs heavily, anger bleeding out from his body. “It was that bastard Ramuda.”
This whole time Ichiro never would have thought it was Ramuda who had been involved, “How’s Ramuda involved?”
Samatoki runs a hand down his face, “He was shady on the details, but it was him.” Samatoki then looks at him, really looks at him, and Ichiro’s whole body burns under the intensity of his gaze. “It wasn’t you.” Then Samatoki barks a laugh, “Damn, it had been so easy to blame you all this time…”
To finally hear from Samatoki that he no longer blames him lifts a weight from his shoulders that Ichiro hadn’t known he’d been carrying. The relief is so strong that it gives Ichiro hope for the future - for their relationship. He wants to voice it, despite how scared Ichiro is.
“I guess you apologize in situations like these, huh?” Samatoki asks, and it’s a genuine question like he’s trying to figure out how to be an adult.
“If you did, I’d forgive you,” Because Ichiro’s thought about it for longer than he’d like to admit. That if they ever did reconcile, he’d hear Samatoki out and apologize where apologies were needed and forgive where forgiveness was due.
Samatoki leans on the railing, looking back out to the bay, “Man, you’ve always had a good head on your shoulders.”
It’s been so long since Samatoki’s complimented him, since they spoke like equals that Ichiro can feel that familiar swoop of his stomach - that feeling he’s tried to forget for years now.
“You helped,” Ichiro answers honestly.
“Nah, that was all you.”
Even if it was all him, Ichiro remembers late nights spent with Samatoki talking about his brothers, his jobs, and his fears; Samatoki helped keep him on the right path when they were friends.
A boat from the harbor blows its horn, momentarily filling the silence.
“If I had known what I know now, I wouldn’t have blamed you, Ichiro.” Then Samatoki surprises him with what he says next, “I’m sorry for all this.”
Without hesitation, Ichiro accepts it, “It’s okay.”
With everything out in the open, Ichiro wants to ask if they’re good now, but he’s afraid of the answer. It might be impossible for things to return to exactly how they once were, after all, they’re still rival division leaders and they’ve spent two years throwing insults at each other.
Samatoki flicks him on the forehead.
Ichiro rubs at the spot, “Ow - what the hell?!”
“I can see you thinkin’ yourself to death over there,” Samatoki takes a step closer and the change in proximity makes Ichiro’s skin tingle. “We cleared that shit up so what’s the matter?”
Everything seems so easy to Samatoki, and Ichiro figures he’s the only one overthinking - the only one that’s held onto conflicting feelings for years. He could ask now while they’re here and actually talking .
Ichiro takes a deep, shaky breath, “Are we good? I mean - nevermind.”
Once again, Samatoki’s gaze is intense as he stares at Ichiro, and Ichiro burns under his gaze. He watches as Samatoki’s eyes lower to his lips and he feels his heart pound against his ribcage. Ichiro almost hates that he lets Samatoki do whatever he wants, lets him lean forward and kiss him; though Ichiro reacts quickly, pushing him away even if he had wanted Samatoki’s lips to stay.
Samatoki must be making fun of him, “What the hell are you - ?!”
“Isn’t this what you wanted?”
His stomach drops. So Samatoki had known - known that Ichiro had stopped looking at him as an idol and had started looking at him as a person, someone he loved - loves . It’s what he wanted back then, but he never did get it, too afraid to say anything or sacrifice the friendship they already had. In the end, Ichiro never had the chance as their friendship frayed and split.
“Even so - why’re you - !”
“I wasn’t gonna make a move on you...you were seventeen…” Samatoki catches Ichiro’s earlobe between thumb and forefinger, the closed hole from his piercing two years ago burning under his touch, “The piercing was as far as I was gonna go…”
Ichiro places his hand over Samatoki’s, “They closed up.” His heart thunders in his chest, knowing what he’s about to ask means that this won’t be the end of them - it’ll be the beginning, “Would you pierce them again?”
Under the darkening skies of Yokohama, Ichiro thinks he sees Samatoki smile, “Yeah, I’ll pierce them again."